Robber's Gorge
by Konstantinsen
Summary: A lowly bandit finds herself at the mercy of those around her. But her torment would last only until someone crashes into their camp with the power of the skies at his lips.


**NOTE: Here's a quickie. My fingers hurt so I'll edit it later. Soon. Maybe.**

* * *

The air in Robber's Gorge was calm. Nothing much had happened today other than a few mudcrabs that had wandered beyond the riverbank. Jeryk took care of that: a few well-placed fireballs and the whole group had crustacean steaks for dinner.

Save for Siochana who was on postern duty. Her stomach grumbled beneath her banded iron cuirass and the weight of this horned helmet on her head was becoming too much to bear. Standing around and keeping the bear traps open was all she did since dawn. And with dusk settling, she could smell the roasting venison and the steamed mudcrabs wafted over the camp.

Orlzag leaned over the postern and whistled. "Hey, dinner's ready."

Siochana's face melted. "Finally! I'm really hungry."

The orc scooted down the postern. "Listen," he said under a whisper, "I can't get you more than a plateful. Sosig is in a really bad mood today."

"Isn't he always?" she asked tiredly. Though she knew the answer. The pungent scent of the skooma dominated the shack where he lived and the constant fits he threw was audible from where she stood all the way across the gorge.

Orlzag scratched the back of his head. "Look, I'll try to get you some extra spoonfuls but that's the best I could do."

"Thanks," she said.

Siochana felt her helmet press down on her head as the orc cheerfully rubbed his palm over her. She felt a little tickle and watched him go. "Now you watch yourself. I'll be back in a while."

And he left. Siochana then sat against the stone outcrop, watching the cloudy sky hang over their heads. It was getting dark and she knew that she would be relieved soon. She wanted her dinner now and she hoped that Orlzag would get here before Geigo does.

* * *

Siochana braced herself. The young Breton teen still recoiled heavily when her face met Sosig's fully clenched fist. Jeryk and Geigo laughed at her pain and then joined in the fray like they always did. She closed her eyes and clutched herself to no avail. Even with this heavy rusted cuirass that she strapped onto her chest, she still felt the kicks and punches of the three dominant bandits of the group all across her body.

"How'd you like that, you little whore!" Geigo hollered drunkenly.

Siochana opened her eyes a little to see the intoxicated Nord heave this afternoon's mead all over her. It was disgusting. The smell assaulted her nose like crushed beets.

Sosig spat on the ground close to her exposed head. He grabbed a fistful of her dirty blonde hair and pulled her up. She held back tears as she felt herself forced onto her feet. At last, her eyes opened and she saw amid her clouding vision Sosig's toothless grin. "Tomorrow will be even better."

Then he felt his fingers gently caress her swollen cheek. Siochana could only heave long breaths until the they left her alone in the middle of the camp. She did her best to cover the parts of her body that ached the most. Finally, when she felt herself completely alone, she let the tears flow; a few soft sniffles and a sob later, she was calming down to let her muscles readjust.

She was ever so grateful for this cuirass. Orlzag had given it to her when she first ended up in the gorge. Aside from the boots and the helmet, it was the only form of protection that actually did protect her. From her own kind.

Though Orlzag was an exception. He was the only one who had shown her some measurable form of kindness. Though he did have to save face in front of Sosig but he did do his best to keep her alive. And unscathed, if possible.

Tonight was different, though. Orlzag had gone out with Forn and Zubar'jil to hunt for game; they had yet to return. And until they did, Sosig would have his way with her. Like he always did when he knew Orlzag wasn't around.

So she lay there, under the illuminated night sky, cursing the stars for her predicament. She hated being a bandit. Worse more, she hated herself for running away from home. She just wanted to die.

* * *

Siochana was woken from her sleep by a brutal kick to her abdomen. She writhed on the ground until she looked up and saw scaled hands pull her to her feet. Jeryk looked sour and his breath smelled of mead. Lots of mead.

"Get to your post, wench!" he screamed into her ear.

She was barely able to put on her helmet, let alone retrieve her sword from her tent, when she was shoved onto the walkway and toted across the gorge to the postern. She stumbled down the steps and landed on her face. Her sword, an old jagged saber, landed close to her exposed head.

Her sides still ached while her legs were wobbly from the night before. Somehow, she had managed to crawl to the edge of the postern where Jeryk pulled her hair until she was already upright. She bit her tongue to keep from crying but the Argonian read through her mien.

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?" he taunted.

Then he shoved a banded iron shield into her hands. It was heavier than the sword.

The Argonian hissed. "Get up and keep watch, wench!" Then he staggered off, still intoxicated, across the walkway back to the camp.

Siochana dropped onto her rump with the shield still in her hands. Her lack of any protective hand wear meant that the round edges of the shield very nearly severed her fingers. She could not bite her tongue any harder as she finally cried. Again.

After a while, when her fingers were no longer sore, she heaved herself up and—amid the pained joints and the horrid stench of Geigo's vomit—stood watch until her shift wound end. In ten hours.

Five hours passed. Siochana, burdened by the weight of her armor and weakened by the lack of any breakfast or lunch, hunched over the barricade set up between the rocks. Her shield lay between her legs and she sweated under the relentless sun. She wished for rain. But alas, that was not to be.

She missed Orlzag. Sosig kept saying he was dead but she did not want to believe it. She wanted to believe that he got lost and somehow ended up in the custody of some kind-hearted guardsmen. Or maybe he had fallen into the river was swept downstream to Morthal.

Her stomach growled and she cupped the free space below her cuirass to massage what little was left of her abdomen. Her sides were still recovering from the Sosig's beating and she had to muscle herself up to overcome the pain in her legs so she could shuffle another few steps.

She was weak. And burdened by heat. She wanted rain. So very much rain. Just cold. Water.

And thunder.

Siochana heard thunder. She very well heard it but she was too tired to lift up her head. The nose guard on her helmet would have prevented her from seeing even farther out so she decided not to bother.

But there it was again. Thunder. Then the radiant light that made the grass shine suddenly faded. The warmth around her bare arms was replaced by a sweeping wind. Siochana felt the loose ends of her flowing blonde hair fly over her exposed jaw.

"What?" she asked in rising bewilderment.

Siochana picked up her shield—heavy as it was—and looked around. The winds were now gusting about and she could feel something moving above her. Something very powerful.

She mustered the strength to look up.

"By the gods!" she screamed.

A whirlwind of storm clouds spun overhead, dominating the sky and casting a heavy downpour. Within a minute, she was already drenched. Freezing. She shivered. The rains bore down with such intensity that she felt even heavier. Still, Siochana hefted herself above the postern to catch a view of the camp across the gorge.

But the sudden flashes of lightning held her back; she stopped just in time to see a mighty bolt of lightning strike down in front of Sosig's shack. Siochana then pushed herself onto the walkway and she saw Jeryk, cloaked in magical fire, frantically tossing spells towards the bridge. Then a bolt struck him. Once. Twice. On the third strike, he dropped unmoving off the guard post across the walkway, his limp body smashing against the side of the gorge and landing onto the road below.

Siochana then felt herself move on instinct. Like many of the bandits who had taken shelter here, they had familiarized themselves with the levers on both ends of the walkway. She was the closest to one. And she ran to the rusted thing and pulled. She pulled as hard as she could. The lever was stuck. But she pulled again until her back felt as though it would snap.

A clank. And steel came loose, sending her onto her rear. The gears churned below and the rocks that were piled against the wooden pallet tumbled down onto the road.

By then, the whole camp was abuzz. Somehow, the storm hovered above with a life of its own, striking down anything that moved under its dominating eye.

Siochana raised her shield above her head. She hid behind the postern and watched the bolts of lightning strike various targets in the camp. She heard screaming. Geigo was yelling. Then his voice suddenly cut out. And now Sosig was hollering. He sounded as though he was about to crack his voice. Two bolts of lightning struck him where he stood and he tumbled back inside the shack, his massive battle-axe slipping from his grip.

Siochana knew there were two other bandits among them whom Sosig had trusted to guard the main gate. When she made to cross the walkway, she could see now: they were both dead. All of the brigands in this camp were dead. Everyone in Robber's Gorge was dead—except her.

She finally made it across. In the shack, she saw Sosig's smoldering corpse simmering with a strong malodorous stench of burnt flesh. Most of his exposed skin was a blackened crisp; the only recognizable feature was his belt with the gemstone buckle.

Siochana felt herself heave. She turned away and saw the rest of the carnage. Geigo was missing his head. And the legs of one of the gatemen stuck out from behind a tent. She panicked.

"No, no, no, no," she told herself. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die here. She wanted to live!

The Breton girl stumbled clumsily down the campgrounds to the wooden gateway where she caught the figure of a man hunched over the other dead sentry. She looked up and no longer saw the terrifying swirl of clouds. Instead, just a foggy sky dropping faint drizzles.

She slogged through the mud until she came within full range of the intruder whose back was turned towards her. Siochana felt for the hilt of her saber as she kept other hand behind her banded iron buckler.

Then the man turned around.

She felt her blood cool at his mask: a visage bearing two closed eyes swarmed by sharp curved tendrils that looked as though they were tentacles wrapping around the face. Despite the distance, she saw how easily he towered over her and she stepped back to draw her blade.

Her hands trembled. She had never really killed before; though she did help Orlzag skin a few dead deer and maybe she could have been the one to put down a rabid wolf, none of those meant anything to this man who had very much killed everyone within the vicinity. His own weapon—a single-edged rapier of some kind—dripped with so much blood that it mixed indiscernibly with the flowing mud.

"Y-you control the weather," she muttered dumbly.

The man turned to face her completely. Then he began walking towards her.

Siochana panicked. She backed herself up against the rocky outcrop, holding out her saber and shrinking behind her shield.

He closed the gap and grabbed her sword. The jagged edge did not seem to faze him when he yanked it free from her grasp. Without a weapon, she raised her shield only for the buckler to be pulled away as well. Now fully disarmed, she gazed up at that terrifying mask.

Her legs were failing her and she felt herself dwindle all the more under his shadow.

"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me," she mouthed uncontrollably.

Before she knew it, Siochana was crying. But she didn't care. Because for all she knew, on this day, a quarter into her eighteenth year, she was going to die.

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: July 11, 2016**

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 **NOTE: This was inspired by a little raid I did on a place called Robber's Gorge. It's a bandit hotspot that happened to be blocking the main highway to Solitude. So naturally, I blazed through it.**

 **I used the Storm Call shout to create a lightning storm over the whole place and attacked while the lightning strikes softened up the bandits. By the time I was done, while I was looting the camp, I saw this one bandit standing in the middle of the road staring at the carnage. Don't know if the AI had low aggression because she was just watching me loot all her dead comrades. She only drew her weapon when I was within five feet of her.**

 **So I used the Bend Will shout on her to pacify her. Then I left her alone to contemplate all the dead while I hobbled on my way to Solitude.**


End file.
